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He shakes his head. “I’m not good a delegating, keeping my nose out of things. If I can’t be here for the day to day, I need a clean break.”
I sigh sadly, “I’m gonna miss you, boss man.”
He chuckles slightly. “I’d like to think that we’re friends, Elle. Hopefully me selling Starlight doesn’t have to be goodbye forever?”
“You think you could get rid of me that easily?” I tease and he opens his arms for a tight embrace.
“Hopefully Mr Preston signs the documents soon, otherwise I think you’ll be stuck with me for a while longer.” I gave him a sympathetic smile as he lets me go and rubs the back of his neck. “He seemed so keen before but he’s just gone cold on me.”
More guilt clouds my heart. It was me. I’m the reason that Lance suddenly doesn’t want the club anymore. He didn’t want me in his life, he’d made that very clear three years ago and it’s just as true now. Arash seems to read my mind and shakes his head at me.
“No Elle. Don’t go there, it’s not your fault. I don’t know your friend well, but I do know that he is a shrewd businessman and someone of his aptitude would not make important businessdecisions based on an old grudge. Please don’t go blaming yourself.”
I sigh. “Okay.”
“I’m serious Elle, it’s not on you.”
“Got it. Listen, I best get home, start enjoying my weekend and everything.”
He offers me another genuine, if not a little deflated smile and a quick hug. My head is swimming and my body is aching with the strain of the last two days. My only peace coming from the knowledge that I am not in the club at all tomorrow so there will be no chance of running into the source of all my turmoil.
25
LANCE
Ididn’t sign the fucking papers. My father is livid. Luckily, I managed to keep him and Amiri apart until my father decided to leave so he couldn’t sign the papers himself. I couldn’t do it, seeing Elle last night was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over my head. She caught us, Hayden and me. She saw us together, she saw my hand in his pants, she saw our lips fused together and I freaked the fuck out.
Hayden tried to laugh about it when we got home but I could see the tightness around his smile. He’s been on his phone most of the day and I wonder if he’s been texting Elle. I wanted to ask him but it seemed awkward to talk about.
No guilt plagues me for obtaining Elle’s personal information from the club records. Her flat is in a shady part of town, there is a busted lock on the door into the building, so I can walk in without an invitation. She’s on the fourth floor and there’s no elevator, luckily my morning runs mean I have the stamina needed to get to the top without breaking a sweat or wheezing. It’s still early evening but the sun has long gone. The overhead light in the hallway to her apartment keeps blinking like we’re in some cheesy horror film. The kind Elle would hate.
I knock on her apartment door and wait for her with nerves jittering through my blood stream. It isn’t Elle who answers, her roommate, Gray. He opens the door and smirks at me.
“Hey, bitch. You’ve got a visitor!” He shouts into the apartment. “I’d invite you in,” he says to me now. “But honestly, my mind’s not made up on you yet.”
“Fair,” I don’t bother smiling politely at him, he will remain loyal to Elle no matter my efforts to win him over. I can only respect him for that.
Elle emerges from the darkened hallway and stops short when she sees me. Gray winks at me with a knowing smile and retreats into the shadows. I barely notice him, my eyes glued on her. Sheis truly dressed down. Her hair is piled on top of her head in an actual messy bun, not like those magazines that call a perfectly curated knot with artfully styled whisps. It’s a true messy bun. If I am unmistaken, it’s unwashed too. Her face is completely bare of all makeup a very feint yet still visible sprinkling of freckles over her nose. Her lips are the pale pink that I remember.
She looks utterly beautiful. I’ve seen her makeup free and relaxed when we lived together but then her hair had always been styled and her pyjamas had always been matching and cute. Now she wore tattered old men’s shorts and I’m suddenly angry, wondering who they originally belonged to. That’s when my eyes snag on her hoodie and stay there.
“What the hell are you doing here?” She taps her foot impatiently, but I’m still far too distracted to answer. After a couple of beats, she huffs. “Seriously, did you have something to stay or are you just going to stare at my tits?”
“That’s my hoodie,” I state, pointing to the faded grey sweatshirt, the St La Salle logo now faintly cracked. The red wine stain is still visible and I cannot stop staring at it.
Elle looks down and pales as she realises what she’s wearing and who she’s wearing it in front of. “It might have been at one point but it’s not anymore.”
“You’re wearing my hoodie,” I say, entranced. Why was she still wearing my hoodie? Did that mean something? Did she think of me whenever she wore it? I can tell she wears it often as it looks well-worn and more stained since the last time I saw it.
“Is that why you’re here, Lance? You want your hoodie back?” She snaps and I lift my gaze to her eyes. God, she’s fucking beautiful.
Remember why you’re here, Preston. I swallow hard and brace myself, clearing my throat. “What you saw yesterday…”
“WhatdidI see yesterday?”
“It’s not…” I try and come up with some explanation, excuse really. But there’s nothing to say that isn’t a lie.
“Were you two…you know, when we…? You know what, don’t answer that. It doesn’t make any difference.” She waves her hands between us to stop whatever answer I might have had for her.
